


The Coming of the End

by enigmaticblue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-07
Updated: 2010-04-07
Packaged: 2017-10-08 18:34:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/78365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-ep tag to 5.16, "Dark Side of the Moon." Dean and Castiel have more in common than Dean ever thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Coming of the End

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the Brandi Carlisle song, "Looking Out." If you can, go listen to it, then come back and read this.

Ten miles outside of town, the stars shone bright, no longer obscured by streetlamps and headlights. Dean sat on the still-warm hood of the Impala and tipped his head back, wishing for a beer or a bottle of something hard. He’d been too anxious to get out of town, away from Sam, to stop for supplies.

 

It was all about perspective, Dean thought. In town, even a mid-size town in the middle of fucking Nebraska, there was enough artificial light to obscure the stars. Out here, they shone brightly. The stars were always there, even if you couldn’t see them.

 

Dying, getting fucked with by Zachariah _again_, talking to Joshua—it was what it was, but for Sam, he got what he wanted handed to him on a fucking platter. Sam wanted redemption; he got it. Dean—

 

He didn’t know what the fuck he’d wanted, what he thought he’d get from God. Dean hadn’t had Cas’ faith, not in the beginning. It wasn’t until Joshua had said the God was Dean’s last hope, that Dean had realized how true it was.

 

And now, now Dean was left without even that shred of hope, and without the illusion that family meant as much to Sam as it did to him.

 

If he closed his eyes, Dean could still see the way the multi-colored lights of the fireworks had flared over Sam’s young face. Seeing Sam’s pure joy had made that night one of the best of Dean’s life.

 

If he closed his eyes, Dean could still see the joy on Sam’s face when he’d talked about living alone, eating junk food and drinking soda, playing with his dog. Sam remembered those two weeks as the best of his life.

 

And all Dean could remember was the sharp fear, the gnawing worry that followed him for two weeks. He remembered his dad returning from his hunting trip four days after Sam disappeared, and having to admit that he’d lost his brother. Dean could still see the quick rage that had leapt up in his dad’s eyes, the fist he’d raised, then dropped.

 

Dean still wished his dad had hit him; the physical beating would have been easier to take than the tongue-lashing that followed. He could still hear his father’s cold words: “You fucked up, Dean. I trusted you to take care of your brother.”

 

Dean didn’t think his dad had ever completely forgiven him for those two weeks. As far as his dad was concerned, Dean had done the unforgiveable; he’d lost Sam.

 

Fuck, he could still feel the sting of the long, cold silences. That was one of the few times Dean could remember his dad being too angry for words, just quiet disapproval.

 

So, yeah, Dean had tossed the amulet. Maybe there was a part of him that could understand Sam’s desire to get away, but the fact that _all_ of his happiest memories had to do with leaving Dean behind?

 

Cas had been right, Dean thought. The amulet was worthless.

 

As though the thought had summoned him, Dean’s cell phone rang. The caller ID confirmed Dean’s suspicions, and he answered it after a moment’s hesitation. “Yeah.”

 

“Where are you?”

 

Dean rubbed his eyes. “I’m not really in the mood right now, Cas.”

 

“_Where are you_?” Castiel’s tone intensified, and Dean knew he wasn’t going to be able to get rid of the angel.

 

“Ten miles outside of Arnold, Nebraska, right off Dunning Road.”

 

“I see.” A whisper of a breeze, and Dean was staring right into Cas’ eyes. “What are you doing here?”

 

“I’m checking out the stars,” Dean snapped irritably. “Back the fuck off, Cas.”

 

To his surprise, Castiel did just that, taking a step back and tucking his phone in his pocket.

 

The silence stretched between them, and after a moment, Castiel perched next to him on the hood of the Impala. “What did you want?” Dean finally asked.

 

He heard Castiel draw in a breath, then let it out again. For a moment, Dean didn’t think Castiel would respond, and then he said, “I don’t know. Nothing. I wanted nothing.”

 

Castiel sounded so forlorn in that moment, so deflated, and Dean was forcibly reminded that he wasn’t the only one who’d had his illusions torn away.

 

“Cas…” Dean trailed off, uncertain of what to say. “I’m sorry your dad is such a dick” probably wouldn’t cut it this time.

 

Castiel turned to look at him, his eyes wide. “I don’t know what to do.”

 

“Just—just promise me that you won’t give up, okay?”

 

“I promise.” Castiel said it so simply that Dean couldn’t help but believe him. “I still believe in what we’re doing.”

 

Dean nodded. “Yeah, okay. Okay.”

 

Cas still wore that damn lost little kid expression, and Dean remembered all too well what it felt like to have your dad turn his back. He could still feel the sting of rejection when his dad had told him to stop looking, he was fine on his own.

 

And because he could remember, Dean leaned in and pressed his lips to Castiel’s in brief kiss.

 

Castiel stared at him, unresponsive, and Dean pulled back hastily. “Sorry.”

 

“No.” Castiel’s eyes narrowed, his expression unreadable, and he leaned in, pulling Dean’s mouth to his own with a strong grip. Dean had no idea if Cas had ever done this before, but even if he hadn’t, he had a steep learning curve. Cas broke the kiss long enough to slide off the hood of the Impala, standing between Dean’s spread legs, tugging Dean in closer.

 

Castiel kissed him thoroughly, their tongues tangling, Cas’ hands gripping his hips tightly. All Dean could feel was Cas, the warm solidity of him, and Dean yanked him closer by his trench coat.

 

It was all rough need, a steady thrum of _want_, and Dean couldn’t believe that they hadn’t done this before. He’d thought about it, but he’d never had the nerve.

 

And then Dean was pushing Castiel’s coat and suit jacket off onto the ground, and because Cas was a guy and an angel and he didn’t seem to care that there wasn’t a bed. Dean didn’t want to—couldn’t take the time to get Cas into the backseat.

 

For the first time since those fucking hunters showed up and shot Sam, Dean wasn’t thinking of anything but _now_, but _want_, but _yes_. Castiel undressed him with rough, demanding hands, shoving Dean on the ground on top of Castiel’s coat. Dean could feel the rough grass poking through fabric, prickling his skin.

 

Castiel broke down every barrier with his hands, and he was everywhere and demanding everything, and all Dean could want in that moment was _Cas_.

 

The rush of pleasure he felt when Cas fell apart in his hands sent Dean over the edge, too, and they just collapsed like that, Cas draped over him.

 

“You okay?” Dean finally asked.

 

“Yes. I think so.” Cas’ voice was muffled in Dean’s shoulder, his chin gouging Dean’s collarbone, but Dean hadn’t the heart or the will to move him.

 

Dean sighed. “I’m sorry about your dad.”

 

Cas choked on a sound that Dean couldn’t recognize. “So am I.”

 

And Dean just clutched him tighter and wished he didn’t know how Cas felt quite as well as he did.


End file.
